1999-09-11 04:00:00 PDT New York -- THE WILLIAMS sisters left everyone spent yesterday. That was four hours of some of the hardest-hitting tennis ever seen in the women's game, but the emotional outlay was comprehensive. The semifinals of the U.S. Open brought joy, frustration, triumph and a stark unraveling -- in Venus' case, mind, body and beads.

Only Serena is left now, on to play Martina Hingis in the final today, and as much as history cried out for an all-Williams affair, logic and justice prevailed. Serena stared down Lindsay Davenport 6-4, 1-6, 6-4 in what looked like the official christening of the game's next great player. Venus went down to Hingis 6-1, 4-6, 6-3 in a match that was as strange as it was heart-stopping.

One shot, one incredible moment, stood out above the rest. It was the shot that gave Hingis her match point and had even the most ardent tennis insiders searching for a television replay. It was the shot, said Martina, "that I didn't believe."

It was evening now, soft and mild, the day pushed back by a 2 1/2-hour rain delay. Hingis was racing desperately to the net for a nicely placed Williams drop shot. It seemed a miracle that she even got there, virtually point- blank at the net on the left side of the court. Somehow, she summoned both lift and pace for a lunging, low backhand that cleared the tape and landed squarely in the down-the-line corner.

The fans were already exhausted from this roller-coaster third set. Now they were on their feet, cheering the way they cheered Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe and so many other greats in the Open's nocturnal craziness. And then the curtain came down, Williams misfiring long with a backhand service return.

"Right now I don't even care what's gonna happen tomorrow," Hingis said. "I mean, what, another Williams I have to play (laughter)? I'm just really happy now. I just want to enjoy this."

Davenport, rebounding from a difficult first set that ended on Serena's first service break, responded like a true champion. "Sometimes Lindsay hits the ball hard, there's nothing you do," Serena said later. "She was attacking everything. Literally ev

erything."

By the end of that set, Serena was slump-shouldered and a bit discouraged. This is only her seventh Grand Slam, and it seemed that her inexperience might work in Davenport's favor. Not at all. "Serena doesn't make the kind of mistakes she used to," a gracious Davenport said. "For me, there's nothing to be down or discouraged about. I lost to a very, very good player."

Serena had a little bit of luck. She broke serve for a 4-3 lead in the third set when her mis-hit service return, a floating little forehand, dropped in. But the Williams sisters don't believe in luck, and there was nothing suspect about the next game. Fighting off five break points, Serena courageously held serve for a 5-3 lead. And as she stood at the precipice, serving for the match at 5-4, she delivered a blistering ace that made it 40-15 and pretty much ended the argument.

In a telling scene around 6:30 p.m. EDT, the Williams' faces showed a penetrating contrast. Serena was in the interview room, looking cool and casual, the way she always does. Venus was staring blankly into space during a changeover, having been blown off the court by Hingis in the first set. In the end, those two images stood up pretty well.

They certainly offered a lot more clarity than the Williams' family box, an ever-changing parade of the unpredictable. One moment Richard, the father, would be there, but no Serena. Wait, there she is -- and he's gone. But there's her dog, for heaven's sake, the little Jack Russell terrier. And who's the guy in drag? It seems there's a preposterous joker who follows the family around, wears sparkly-sequin dresses and fills his head with white, Williams-like beads. Somehow, he's cool; the family lets him sit right there. Reporters felt like paying him a visit, but like those front-row religious zealots with their eight-foot signs, he doesn't need even a shred of publicity.

Venus' beads could use some work. In a nightmarish last two games, Venus suffered the indignity of a foot-fault (on her second serve), some catcalls from the crowd, and then a sudden onset of cramps. On the two serves that handed Hingis a service break for 5-3, Venus shockingly one-hopped the first one into the net at 62 mph. Then she scuffed another one, looking like some rookie at the carnival Serve-A- Bomb.

"I wasn't nervous or tight or anything," said Venus, who tried her best to avoid the subject. "But I did cramp up a little. I don't think I drank enough water."

After a brief visit from the trainer, Venus bounded out superbly for the final game, only to have two or three beads fall from her hair. A quick adjustment was in order. She shook her head to make sure. And about a dozen more fell out.

As frazzled as Venus looked at the end, she'd been beaten by -- on this day -- a superior player. And there would be comfort and solace later on. Venus' sister just joined the party.